


of love and all

by Kit_Kat21



Series: Castle Black Bar [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluffyfest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-26 04:18:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14992589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kit_Kat21/pseuds/Kit_Kat21
Summary: “I think you might be biased because I sleep with you,” Sansa smiles, but he can tell that she’s pleased with his reaction to her dress.Jon closes the remaining space between them and slides his hands over her hips. “That’s only partially true,” he says and she laughs as she straightens the lapels on his jacket. “Do I look like I have any right in the world to date the most talented fashion designer in all of Westeros?” He wonders.





	of love and all

…

 

“You’re being ridiculous, just so you’re aware,” Arya informs him.

 

“And you’re supposed to be helping me,” Jon reminds her with a frown. “This is the most important night of Sansa’s life and I’m not going to embarrass her.”

 

That makes Arya snort. “Have you seen yourself lately? There’s no way you’re going to embarrass Sansa.”

 

Jon just keeps frowning and he turns away from the mirror to look at her. “What is that supposed to mean?” He asks. “I’ve never been to anything that’s close to what tonight is going to be like. What if some reporter decides to ask me something?”

 

Arya shrugs. “Just say that Sansa Stark is your favorite designer and then move on. Remember that this night is about Sansa and your job tonight is literally to be her arm candy.”

 

Jon nods and takes a deep breath. Sansa hasn’t said that, but Jon knows that that’s the truth. Tonight, he is the boyfriend and her biggest fan and supporter. She’s told him that she needs him to hold her hand and keep her from tripping in front of the cameras. Jon has already promised her that he won’t let her go.

 

He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous. As Arya has reminded him, this night isn’t about him. Not in the least. He’s just some faceless person that will be getting his photograph taken a lot simply because he’s standing next to the star. Jon knows that and he’s quite happy with his role. If it was anything more than that, he would really lose it. But still, just _knowing_ that there will be photographers there, inadvertently taking his picture while capturing Sansa, that’s what is making him so nervous. The last thing he wants to do is make a fool of himself and Sansa will have to answer for him from reporters asking her about the bumbling idiot she’s brought as her date.

 

“Besides, like I said, have you seen yourself? Many people, not me, but many people find you attractive,” Arya comments as she grabs a nearby paperback that’s on their coffee table and begins flipping through it, seemingly done with this conversation.

 

“But not you?” Jon asks, smiling a little as he turns back to the mirror.

 

“Definitely not me,” Arya reaffirms and Jon is smiling a bit wider now.

 

Sansa has dressed him tonight and Jon has no problem with admitting that. If it had been left to him, he would wear what he always wears and tonight is definitely not a night for jeans and a tee-shirt.

 

She has gotten him a Flint suit – and Jon knows enough about fashion to know that this is a very good suit. Even Ned and Robb had given slightly wide eyes when Sansa had mentioned it. He knows it’s only a loan though so he can’t mess it up whatsoever, but for a loan, he admits that it fits like a dream. Black suit jacket, black shirt and black pants. Sansa knows him well enough to know that black will make him comfortable. As for his hair, he was tempted to put it back, but Arya had convinced him to leave it down.

 

“You should hear girls at the bar, _drooling_ over your curls,” Arya had told him with a wrinkled nose.

 

Jon doesn’t care about what girls at the bar think of his hair, but he leaves his hair down. If Sansa sees it and wants him to pull it up, that’s easily fixed.

 

He steps from the bedroom into the living room and holds his arms out to the side. “Well?” He asks.

 

Arya lowers the book enough to look at him. “Passable,” she says.

 

Jon wants to throw something at her, but he has nothing handy to him at the moment. And Arya seems to know it, too, because she gives him a grin before going back to flipping through the book.

 

He hears the key in the front door and Jon turns as Sansa enters their flat, she freezing when she sees him.

 

“Wow,” she says and Jon smiles at that.

 

“Yeah?

 

“Definitely,” Sansa nods quickly, still looking at him, and she smiles.

 

Sansa has been at the hair salon all morning with her mom and Jon sees her hair – long and down and wavy and it somehow seems shinier to him than usual.

 

“You look beautiful,” he says and she laughs as she closes the door.

 

“I’m not dressed yet,” she points out to him. “We’ll see what you say in a few more minutes.”

 

Jon doesn’t want to wrinkle his suit, but there’s no way he’s going to go through this entire night without doing so. He now steps to her and wraps his arms around her, hauling her against his chest. Sansa smiles just as he brings his lips to hers and gives her a soft kiss.

 

“Are you nervous?” She asks him quietly.

 

Jon smiles a little. “Shouldn’t I be the one checking on you?”

 

Sansa smiles, too. “I’m not nervous yet. I _will_ be, but not yet. I’ll let you know when I am,” she says.

 

Jon gives her another kiss. He supposes this works out for the best. He gets over and done with his nerves now so when Sansa’s hit, he’s able to actually help and keep her calm.

 

“Remember. Don’t go downstairs,” Sansa says. “The last thing we need is someone spilling something on you and you causing that suit to smell like a bar.”

 

“My bar doesn’t smell,” he does his best to frown at her and Sansa just laughs.

 

“Alright. It’s my turn to get ready,” Sansa says and with one last kiss, she leaves his arm. “Arya?”

 

“Yep.” Arya puts the book back onto the coffee table and pulls herself back to her feet.

 

“I could have helped,” Jon reminds her.

 

“I know, but I don’t want you to see the dress yet,” Sansa says and hands the garment bag off to Arya for her to take into the bedroom.

 

Whatever the dress, Sansa has been working on it at her shop without anyone’s eyes to lay upon it. It’s part of her new spring line and she is going to be debuting it tonight along with the rest of her spring collection. Jon knows she’s both excited and nervous for him to see it. Jon doesn’t understand why _his_ opinion would matter when tonight, people from all of the Southern fashion labels – except for Highgarden, of course – will be there as will be fashion journalists, bloggers and photographers. The event tonight is going to be huge; to put it mildly. And tonight, all of Sansa’s dreams are coming true. She had set out months before to show that the North has all of the talent and capabilities of being just as fashion forward as anything in the South. With all of those people who knows what they’re actually talking about, it doesn’t make sense to Jon as to why Sansa wants to know what he thinks.

 

Anything Sansa wears is stunning to him and when it’s something of her _own_ design, Jon loves it on sight. He can’t imagine that anything tonight will be any different.

 

Sansa gives him a kiss on the cheek and then leaves, following her sister in the bedroom and closing the door behind them both. Dressed and ready and nothing with him now to do except wait – Ghost and Lady are staying at the Stark home that night since neither he or Sansa want dog hair all over their clothes – Jon goes to sit on the couch, grabbing his cell phone.

 

The other end rings three times before Dickon answers.

 

“Castle Black Bar.”

 

With Jon gone that night, he had called his sometime extra bartender, Dickon, in to help Daario that night.

 

“How’s it going down there?” Jon asks.

 

_“Is that him?”_ Jon can hear Daario ask in the background and Dickon must have nodded his head because then, _“Tormund, you win!”_

Jon sighs. “Betting on when I would call?” He guesses.

 

“Of course,” Dickon answers, his smile evident through the phone. “Don’t worry, boss. We have it covered.”

 

“I know you do. I’m just checking.” Jon is _not_ checking up on his guys like he’s a babysitter and he doesn’t trust them. He’s just… checking on things in general. “Alright. Well, Sansa’s getting ready now and we’ll be leaving shortly after that, but just remember that my cell phone is on. It’s on vibrate and I might not be able to get back to you straight away-”

 

“I know, boss,” Dickon gently interrupts.

 

Jon smiles a little. “I know you do.”

 

He doesn’t have a hard time stepping back from his bar. He doesn’t. He just… he likes to be in control. What’s the problem with that? That bar downstairs in his baby; his livelihood. And after Sansa, that bar downstairs is the most important thing in the world to him.

 

“Just remember. If _anything_ happens-”

 

“Yeah, we got it, boss,” Daario says, having ripped the phone out of Dickon’s hand. “You know, it’s hard to keep up with making drinks when you’re keeping us on the phone.”

 

“I know. I know. Take care of my bar,” Jon tells him.

 

“Always.” And then the line goes dead as Daario hangs up.

 

Jon is tempted to call him back – just to tell him to _not_ hang up on him – but before he can, the bedroom door opens again and Jon instantly stands up, spinning towards the door to get his first eye of Sansa.

 

He’s glad he’s not holding anything right then because he knows he would dropped it.

 

She stands there and all he can do is stare at her. Hell, he can’t even breathe. All he can do is stare.

 

And Sansa stands there, letting him look his fill for what has to be five minutes – at least that’s how long it feels to Jon – before she smiles. “So, do you think I’ll get good reviews tonight?” She asks, her voice teasing, but he can hear the slight uncertainty beneath it.

 

“Holy shit, Sansa,” Jon is able to say.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Arya pushes out from behind Sansa and goes to gather her things. “She looks radiant. We all know that. Sansa,” she looks back to her sister. “We’ll meet you there, yeah?”

 

“Thank you so much, Arya,” Sansa says, pulling her eyes away from Jon so she can look to Arya.

 

“All I did was pull up a zipper,” she shrugs. “Break a leg tonight.” She leans in, kisses Sansa’s cheek quickly before she’s hurrying out the door, having to still get herself ready for the runway show the Stark family will be attending.

 

The door is slammed a little too hard behind her when she leaves, but Jon doesn’t even notice. He’s still too busy looking at Sansa.

 

She’s told him about how the South views the North’s fashion – or lack thereof. Apparently, the women all living in the North dress themselves in parkas and burlap sacks. That’s one of the things Sansa has been wanting to change. As she has put it, women in the North love pretty dresses, too, and despite what the Southern women think, it does get warm in the North – just not as hot as the South – but warm enough to wear dresses that have shorter hemlines than winter dresses and actual short sleeves.

 

That is what Sansa is wearing now. The dress ends just above her knees and it’s a silver color, and yet, when she moves, Jon swears that it catches the light and everything on the front changes.

 

“How did you do that?” He asks and Sansa seems to know what his question means because she smiles and looks down to her dress, smoothing her hands down it.

 

“It’s very faint, but see?” She takes a few steps towards him, but still far enough away for him to see the dress in its entirety. “I’ve stitched in what the Northern sky looks like at sunset. I didn’t want to overpower the dress with it, but you can see it?”

 

Jon swallows and nods. “It’s like a Magic Eye,” he then says and Sansa beams.

 

“That’s exactly what I wanted. I wanted people to look and _think_ that they saw something and it causes them to take a look again.”

 

“It’s beautiful,” Jon says, still staring at it. She turns ever so slightly and there; another subtle sunray appears among a sea of even more subtle pinks and purples. He has no idea how she makes moving art, but she does and he knows that everyone there tonight will be clambering all over her and her new designs. “ _You’re_ beautiful,” he then says, lifting his eyes to her.

 

“I think you _might_ be biased because I sleep with you,” Sansa smiles, but he can tell that she’s pleased with his reaction to her dress.

 

Jon closes the remaining space between them and slides his hands over her hips. “That’s only _partially_ true,” he says and she laughs as she straightens the lapels on his jacket. “Do I look like I have any right in the world to date the most talented fashion designer in all of Westeros?” He wonders.

 

Sansa’s eyes lift to his. “As long as I look like the type of girl who can date the owner of the most successful bar in all of Westeros.”

 

Jon lifts a hand to the back of her head, mindful to not make too much a mess of her hair, and he kisses her. Sansa’s hands move up from his chest for her arms to wrap around his neck.

 

“You ready for this?” Jon murmurs against her lips.

 

His nerves are passing now. He can feel them leaving his body. Yes, he’s about to go walk a red carpet and get his picture taken, but this is Sansa’s red carpet and these are pictures of Sansa. He’s just the lucky guy who’s able to walk beside her.

 

It’s Sansa’s turn to release a slightly shaky breath of nerves.

 

“Just don’t let go of my hand,” she tells him.

 

Jon shakes his head before moving in for another kiss. “Never.”

 

…

Inspiration:

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you!


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